


Before & After

by JohnLaurens (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is sassy and roasts his teachers a lot, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Betrayal, Break Up, Child Abuse, Depression, Field Trip, Hamilsquad in a hotel uh oh, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Jefferson is a dicc ofc, John is a Mess, John is hurt, M/M, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shit goes down, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, TAGS VERY SUBJECT TO CHANGE, half the story is me trying to fill in the plotholes, slow updates but i promise it's not abandoned!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:05:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13725960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/JohnLaurens
Summary: John Laurens considers his life to be split into two parts.When he has nothing: no friends, no will to live,  nothing but the inflamed tissue of scars adorning his skin.And when he has everything: All the friends he will ever need, a will to live (given to him by his lovely friends), and all his scars healing with only pink lines across his skin as a mere memory of his past.What happens when one tiny mistake costs him everything?[TW for blood, suicidal thoughts, and child abuse]





	1. Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at John's life before he meets Alex.

* * *

_6:30 AM_

John untangled his blanket from his legs and shoved it onto the floor. He trudged out of bed and made his way to his closet. Usually a teenager would be complaining about having to wake up that early, but John had stopped feeling things a while ago.

He grimaced as he examined his body in the mirror. Scattered across his arms were gashes of various length and depth, all engraved into his freckled skin by his father's razor. His fingers traced the inflamed tissue trailing around his neck, a permanent memory of the time his father had grabbed him from there and attempted to drown him. John couldn't see his back, obviously, but he knew what was cut into it. He had stopped gazing at the mirror, at this point, and was now staring through it as the memory replayed itself in his head.

_His father had dragged him to the bathroom. John was thrashing around, putting up a fight, but the arms grasping him by the neck and chest were stronger than him. John was left breathless. The hands released, and John dropped to his knees. His vision went blurry around the edges and he felt too hot. He heard the bathroom door close and lock behind him, and his heart skipped a beat. It was clear what the need for privacy meant._

_"Take off your shirt." His father commanded. Henry loomed over his son, crumpled on the floor, but the boy did not comply. A firm kick struck John's back. "I said take off your shirt, you worthless cunt!" He repeated harshly. John's shaky fingers slowly made their way to his collar, and struggled to undo the buttons. He eventually managed to strip out of the shirt and dropped it on the bathroom floor. He heard the unmistakable sound of his father's pocket knife flicking open, and a rough hand swept the hair off his back, and held him down by the nape of his neck. The metal blade was cold against the seemingly boiling skin of his shoulder blades. The knife punctures his skin and an ear-piercing scream shatters the room. The blade plunges deeper, and begins moving across his back._

_John's vision went fuzzy, and his skin stung as if it were on fire. His tears escaped their prison in the corner of his eyes and slipped down his cheeks, dripping onto the floor. He felt the blood from the open wounds trickle down his back. He released a sob that shook his whole body. He cried, and waited, and whimpered, but the torture never stopped._

_Finally, a damp towel wiped the blood running down his back. He heard his father clap his hands together. "Perfect! A true masterpiece." Henry declared. He heard the snap of a photo being taken, and his father left the room._

_John sniffled and wiped his face with a towel. He left his shirt on the bathroom floor, not wanting to stain it with imprints of his blood. Trembling, he stood up, using the wall as support, and stumbled back to his room where he collapsed on his bed. He fell asleep within a matter of minutes - crying really is tiring._

_He woke up later in the evening to a ding from his phone. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. His head was throbbing and he felt dizzy. Still, he unlocked his phone and opened the message that had awakened him. His jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. Salty tears pricked at his eyes once more._

_He had received a photo from his father. The photo depicted John's bony body as he was sobbing hands and knees on the floor. There, in three rows across his back, in all capital letters, were the words:_

_"WORTHLESS_

_PIECE OF_

_SHIT"._

 John shook himself from the memory and grounded himself, focusing on his own eyes in the mirror.  _It's the first day of junior year, get a grip..._ He told himself. He grabbed a black hoodie and slipped into it, along with a pair of dark skinny jeans and converse. He decided to leave his hair down for the day (he got an odd sense of safety from being under the wild curls). He was careful not to tangle his hair in his piercings as he brushed it. He had standard black diamond earrings pierced into his lobe, and and industrial piercings with a silver [snake](https://goo.gl/images/DuWSC5). John had to admit to himself, it was a bit of an emo look, but that's not what he was going for. He ran to the bathroom and quickly finished getting ready.

John grabbed his backpack and slipped out the door. Luckily, he had made it through the morning without awakening his father. He began the walk towards his high school with an unreadable expression.

Every day was the same process. John would enter the school and make his way to class. He'd be pushed here and there, and occasionally he'd be shoved into a wall. But he kept his mouth shut and kept walking. He'd get to class. Find a seat in the back far away from everyone else. He spoke only when asked a question. A few students would turn around and send him odd glances, but he'd simply ignore them and turn all his attention to the board. And more students would start spreading rumors and gossiping about the mysterious quiet kid in the back of class. He'd keep his mouth shut anyways. 

No one really talked to him much. He didn't speak during class, and he rarely ate during lunch. On the rare occasions that he did eat, he was often questioned as to why he preferred to eat laying horizontally. It was always the same answer.

" _Because that way it's more likely that I choke and die."_

John would've killed himself long ago if it weren't for one reason and one reason only: he had to be there for his sister. Ever since their mother had died in a fatal car accident, Henry had blamed his two children for it.

_"You drove her out of the house." A strike across the face. "She wouldn't be dead if it weren't for you, faggot."_

John was the oldest, so naturally he was his father's target. He'd take all the hits and blows so that Martha didn't have to. She'd often hold him, comfort him, try to convince him that she could take it. But he always denied. And if his overdose attempts had worked? He didn't know what would've happened to her. So after freshman year, John had decided that for the time being, he would stop attempting. For Martha.

John reached the school campus just seconds before the first bell rang. The students filed into the hallways, and as usual, John was forced to bulldoze his way through the crowd. He shuffled through the doors of his first period, AP Government, and plopped into a seat in the far corner of the classroom. As more students came in, all the seats in the front of class were eventually filled, until only one seat next to John was left empty. Not surprising.

"Good morning, class." Their teacher, Mr. Adams mumbled. John had heard from several students that Mr. Adams was quite a bore. It was certainly true. Adams continued to half-ass the introductions, and John boredly turned to tracing patterns on the surface of his desk, until a loud rapping at the door resonated throughout the room. 

Adams sighed and trudged to the classroom door, swinging it open. "You're late, Alexander." He announced to the student walking into class. From where he was, John couldn't see 'Alexander's face. But he did notice very soft looking dark hair tied into a messy man-bun. The boy stood facing Adams with a stone expression. "Yes sir, I know that. And you should know that since this is my first day on an entirely new and massive campus, it is not unlikely for me to get lost." A few students _oohed_ as Mr. Adams rolled his eyes and walked back towards the front of the class room. Alexander began scanning the room for a seat, when his pen was knocked out of his hand by none other than Thomas Jefferson, school jock and class bully. 

"Oops! Sorry sugar, didn't mean to do that." Thomas exclaimed in mock-surprise. Alexander bent down to pick up the pen, and _oh my god._ John thought. He was mesmerized by the perfect shape of his ass. The boy straightened back up, and stomped on Jefferson's foot.

"Oops, sorry _sugar,_ didn't mean to do that." Alexander mimicked. He sat down in the empty chair next to John as the other students giggled. John couldn't hold back a small chuckle. The quiet laugh caught Alexander's attention, and he turned towards John.

John's heart melted. His face was even prettier than his ass. He had chocolate brown eyes that were deep with wit and sparkled with curiosity, soft pink lips that John wanted nothing more than to kiss, and a bit of peach fuzz that he seemed unable to grow.

_Stop!_   _Stop thinking like that,_ John told himself _. He'll never like someone as worthless as you._

Alexander sent him a small smile, which John returned. The latter quickly turned back to his desk blushing, and suddenly became very invested in tracing patterns on his desk. 

Those were the first emotions he had felt in years. 

Maybe this year would be different. Maybe, by some small chance, Alex would want to befriend him. Maybe John could wake up and not have to wait the whole day until he could just sleep again. Maybe he could stop surviving and start living. 

Maybe Alexander could be his will to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to retype this twice because it kept getting deleted so sorry if this seems rushed. Hope you enjoyed!! Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Next chapter will be the After, obviously. 
> 
> [Please notify me of any grammar mistakes]


	2. Acquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we learn more about alexander!!! enjoy babes ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that it sucks
> 
> this was more of me trying to prove that i’m not dead than me writing a story

As it turns out, Alexander didn't talk to John much the week after that.

Or the one after that. 

Or the rest of the month, for that matter.

There was the occasional "Can I borrow a pencil?" passed between them, sometimes complaints about the way no one could understand Mr. Adams' continuous drawls. John's favorite words, however, always remained the same:

"Throw this at Jefferson for me?" 

The answer from John was always yes. Since Thomas sat in the front corner of the classroom (a straight line from the back where John sat) John had a better chance of actually hitting him than Alexander did with his godawful aim. Alexander would hand John a cap eraser, or the remnants of a scrapped idea, or a rubber band, and John would fling it Thomas. Usually, Thomas would turn around to find Alexander working. He'd see John too, but think nothing more of him than a scrawny loser who wouldn't try anything with him. Alexander found entertainment in watching Thomas swing his head around searching for a culprit. John was just surprised Thomas couldn't hear Alexander snorting his ass off in the back of the classroom.

John liked to think of it as a little thing they had. Just him, and Alexander. Maybe they couldn't be friends, but at least they had some sort of a system, right? That's what kept John going in school. 

 

One September morning, John walked into AP Government to find Alexander sitting in his seat. In  _John's_ seat. What could this beautiful boy possibly be doing in his seat? 

John approached Alexander and used the time before the late bell rang to speak to him. "Um.. Hey, Alexander. You're in my seat." The mention of his name brought the brown-eyed boy's attention to the green-eyed one. 

"I _am_ in your seat, good observation." He retaliated with a smug grin. 

John inhaled deeply, his fingers tangling themselves in his backpack straps and fiddling with them. He needed to stay calm, and not overreact. He didn't want to pick any fights with Alexander. He needed a cool and collected response..."Yeah. Get out of it."  _Real smooth, Laurens,_ he thought to himself. Alexander, instead of lashing out at John, or looking offended like he did every time Thomas talked to him, or even scoffing, simply chuckled. John felt himself relax and his breathing evened out. 

"Well since you asked so nicely, I just might." Alexander grabbed his backpack and rose from his spot in John's seat, moving one down to his own. Once Alexander had settled into his own seat, he spoke without looking at John, "And in case you were wondering, I was planning on throwing a massive apple at Jefferson's head. I just didn't want you to get in trouble for it, so I was going to do it myself." John felt himself tint pink at Alexander's remark. 

"What the fu- I mean... I can throw it for you, it's fine."

Alexander's head snapped up at this. "Really? You don't have to."

John quickly nodded his head.  _Anything for you, Alex,_ he thought. "I'm sure. I'll throw it at him. Vigorously." 

Alexander chortled, and his gaze lingered on John, really taking in his look for the first time. His petite yet lean stature, rosy cheeks, and astonishing clover-green eyes. Alexander's feelings towards the last bit may have slipped out with his next remark. "You have super nice eyes." 

When John met Alexander's gaze with a confused one, he decided to emphasize, like the loudmouth he was. "No, really. Like, I didn't even know it was possible for eyes to naturally be that shade. It's like someone photo shopped your eyes with an unrealistically green eye color. Except it's not photo shop, you just have super nice eyes." He could've gone on, but he decided to stop himself there rather than talk the clover-eyed boy into boredom.   

John was stunned. "Jesus Christ. Thanks, I guess. Yours are a pretty nice..."  _What word can you use to describe brown eyes? Poopy?!_   John panicked. _Fuck_."...a pretty nice brown." 

Alexander threw his head back and chirruped at the observation. John didn't think he had ever heard a more heart-warming sound. 

Alexander regained composure as Mr. Adams closed the door and made his way in, feet never leaving the ground as he trudged into the classroom.

As Adams began droning the roll, Alexander leaned over in his seat and cautiously spoke. "Hey- John. Tell you what. Sit with my friends and I at lunch. Give them a chance. I think you'd like them." He whispered. John tapped his pencil in thought. He bit his lip, evidently scared, but nonetheless nodded. "Okay. Sure."

Alexander beamed with the response. "Great! I'll be waiting for you by the doors, then!" If Alexander wanted to go on, he couldn't have. Mr. Adams glared at him, eyes seemingly burning through his own glasses. The ambitious boy sat straight in his seat and sent his teacher a mockingly innocent smile, eyes crinkling in the corners and teeth flashing. Adams rolled his eyes, irritated, and stood up to begin his lecture.

It only took John a couple of minutes to lose interest and begin doodling in his notebook. He let his pencil lead the way, not even thinking about whatever lines it was making, and what they'd end up to form. 

He wasn't very surprised when the outlines of a brown-eyed boy began to take shape. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is very short but  
> 1\. i wanted to get something out. you little angels who subbed to the story have been waiting too long for an update and deserve one  
> 2\. i wanted to bring them together before establishing their friendship and the rest of the story
> 
> i actually have the entire story planned. the only thing stopping me from writing this entire time is all the plot holes. since summer is coming up, i'll have nothing to do but i will also be out of country so i'm not sure if that's better or worse...
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading, constructive criticism is welcome, have a good day :)


	3. PSA if anyone still cares

Hey. I’m sorry for all you loyal subscribers and commenters. I know I said I wouldn’t give up on this fic, but here’s the thing. 

1\. My style and views of writing Hamilton fics practically evolved. I’ve learned a lot and discovered I don’t like the way I wrote this story at all. For one, I hate how much I try to force pity on John in the first chapters. I was pretty much going through a phase writing this because I also prefer man-bun John over hair down John. 

2\. I don’t even ship Lams anymore. The shippers got too annoying. Shipping two people that are the same sex? That’s okau. Shipping two people because they are the same sex? Not okay, suffer! 

3\. I don’t even have a computer. I’m updating this on my phone and it’s a lot easier to type on a computer. 

Thanks to everyone who believed in this fic, tho. I’ll be orphaning it soon, but I am planning on writing new fics that are more my style! This means fantasy aus, gang aus, crack ships with John, and just bros being bros doing dumb shit :)


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